


5 Steps to Yes

by independentalto



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 'tis a lot of fluff lbr, F/F, Fluff, coulson's a bit of a shit, skye is a fangirl, the fluff flies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7216132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobbi's got a very special question to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Steps to Yes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwifteForeverAndAlways](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwifteForeverAndAlways/gifts).



> I have to give partial credits to SwifteForeverAndAlways for the ending scene, since we partially wrote it together...other than that, here's a tiny piece of fluff that I hope y'all will like!

“Fitz.” 

He jumps around before he can help it, a reflex born out of wariness and too many days at the hands of Simmons’ practical jokes. Bobbi’s standing there, her normally pretty features twisted into an unreadable expression and a fist clenched behind her back. “Bobbi,” he says, refraining from putting a hand on his heart dramatically. “Scared the bloody hell out of me,”

“I can tell,” she smirks, those same confusing features twisting into a wry smile. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Fire away,” he says dryly. It’s not like anything  _ else  _ can surprise him after the scare she’d just given him. 

(He’ll probably have to go get himself examined after this. He’s pretty sure that scare just took ten years off of his life expectancy.) 

“I want to ask Jem to marry me.”

Okay, scratch that. Anything after  _ that  _ wouldn’t surprise him. 

“You,” he swallows, pointing a finger at Bobbi to double check. “You. W-w-want to m-marry Jem.” Bobbi nods, and suddenly she’s a lot less sure of herself, rubbing her right forearm as she shifts back and forth from each foot. The hidden item is still clenched in her left fist, moving smoothly with each up-and-down sweep of her hand. 

“I love her,” she whispers, and Fitz thinks it’s one of the truest confessions he’s ever seen her make, apart from the time she’d expressed regret over hurting the two of them in the SHIELD wars. “I love her more than anything, Fitz. More than I ever thought I could. And, frankly,” She laughs a little, casting her eyes downwards. “That scares the  _ hell  _ out of me.” 

“Good ta hear,” he replies gruffly. It isn’t that the subject of a romantic relationship with Jemma Simmons bothers him - really, it doesn’t, not since Simmons had finally broken down and come clean - it’s the other options on the base that do. “An’ Hunter?”

“You think I’ll forsake her for him.” They’d been lab partners for too long, it seemed. Bobbi had the uncanny ability to read his mind almost as well as Simmons did - and her interrogative powers didn’t help. He, in turn, had just about mastered the art of the witty repartee. 

“Can’ blame a bloke for thinkin’ tha’. Jemma’s my bes’ friend. ‘M not about to let her get into anything that could hurt her. She loves you, Barbara. You know that.” 

“Don’t call me that, Leopold.” 

“‘S long ‘s we’re talking ‘bout Jemma, I think I should. Barbara.”

“Hunter’s a thing long gone,” she says softly, glancing down at her fist. “I swear on my life.” The sobriety of the moment is broken by the corner of her lips tugging up into a small smile. “Besides. He bats for the other team, apparently.” 

(Fitz tries to pretend that doesn’t hit him like one of Skye’s shockwaves.)

“Righ’,” he stutters, trying to pull himself together after that bombshell. (Bobbi’s still smirking at him like she knows something. It’s infuriating.) “So you want ‘ta marry Jemma. Whaddya need me for?” 

“You mean a lot to her, Fitz,” she answers solemnly. “And I know she means a lot to you.” She gestures around the base. “As it stands, we’re the closest thing she’s got to family at the moment, so...” A funny half-shrug. “Thought it was only appropriate I ask.” 

“Right,” Fitz says slowly. “‘N just where do I fit in?”

“You could be the brother that threatens to beat the shit out of me if I mess up,” Bobbi suggests lightly, looking up from the ground at him. “Of course, I’m sure Hunter’ll say the exact same thing, I just...I thought it would be fitting to ask you first.”

“You love each other.” It’s Fitz’s turn to grow quiet. “I can see th’ way she looks at you. The way you look a’ her. Don’ fight the cosmos,” he says finally.”If they’re giving ya the chance of a lifetime, take it.” 

“Thank you,” she breathes, her eyes lighting up in relief. “Did you want to see the ring?” When he raises an eyebrow, Bobbi opens her left fist, letting a single, thin silver chain dangle from her index finger. Attached to the chain is a small, plain band, a small emerald set into its center. “It’s my birthstone,” she supplies when he opens his mouth to ask. “I thought it was better than a diamond.” A smirk this time. “Too conventional.”

“I’m happy for ya,” he answers, a genuine smile spreading across his face as Bobbi encloses the chain once more. “Bu’,” he warns, holding up a hand. “I hear one  _ word  _ that even  _ sounds  _ like you hur’ Jemma, you will  _ never  _ go near her again.” 

Bobbi mirrors the smile. It’s somehow still filled with mystery. “I’d be dead first.”

* * *

 

_ CRASH!  _

She dives into a roll as the structure begins to topple, plastic boxes falling over onto themselves before hitting the floor. There’s barely hesitation before she’s aiming at another stack, this time executing a flip while avoiding its tumble.  _ BOOM!  _ Another wave, this time aimed at the pyramid of glasses Mack had been so kind as to set up for her before fleeing the room. 

The pyramid topples and shatters across the training room floor, and she winces. Maybe she should’ve thought that one through more. 

“Whoo. Good luck explaining that one to May.” 

Skye straightens and turns to the sound of clapping; Bobbi’s leaning against the doorway, looking nonchalant and pensive at the same time. “‘Sup, Bobbi?” she asks, walking over to the towel she’d stashed in the corner of the room before beginning her workout. “I’m assuming you’re not here on May’s behalf about the damages.” 

“No, but you’ll probably want to clean that up before she finds out,” Bobbi goggles at the pile before renewing her attentions on the Inhuman. “I wanted to ask you something.” She’s aware it’s the same line she’d used on Fitz - and wonders just how many times she’ll have to use it today. 

(She imagines quite a lot. After all, there isn’t a person on this base that wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t ask them for their blessing. Except for the Keonigs. As soon as she figures out which one is which.)

“Shoot,” Skye is toweling her face off, reaching for the bottle of water on the floor mat. “What is it? We on for pranking FitzSimmons again? Hunter? We got Mack last time, a repeat’s just asking for retribution, and he’s  _ hell  _ with pranks...”

“I want to ask Jem to marry me.”

The water arcs across in the room in one long stream, and Skye wipes her hand across her mouth, trying to comprehend what Bobbi’s just said. 

Bobbi regards the water now coating the glass spread across the floor. “Wow. You’re going to need a dustpan  _ and  _ a mop.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Skye waves a hand, regarding Bobbi excitedly. “You’re gonna marry Jem!” Bobbi watches as Skye goes into some sort of prayer position, gesturing madly towards the heavens. “Praise be whoever’s up there! It’s finally happening! My ship’s sailing!”

Bobbi barely holds back a snort as she looks on amusedly. “I take it this means you approve.”

“ _ Approve _ ?” Skye launches to her feet. “Of course I approve! I’ve been approving of this since you showed up and Jem nearly overturned her cereal bowl the next morning at breakfast! I have been waiting for this for  _ weeks,  _ Barbara Morse.  _ Months,  _ even.” Her expression can only be described as slightly fanatical, and to tell the truth, it’s starting to creep Bobbi out. In a completely loving way. 

“Months?” It’s the only thing she can get out. 

“Months,” Skye confirms, bouncing up and down like a child that’s been told Christmas has come early. “Okay, Bobbi, you don’t under _ stand _ . I have heard  _ every _ single play-by-play of her encounters with you. I have sat through  _ hours  _ of Jemma analyzing the things you said to her before you two got together. I have gone  _ gift shopping  _ and done  _ research  _ and listened to the  _ same  _ theories  _ over  _ and  _ over  _ again. There’s  _ only _ so many times you can hear ‘But what if she’s a raging homophobe, Skye?!’ without wanting to punch your best friend. And,” She lifts up a finger as Bobbi opens her mouth, gesturing every other word emphatically. “Lincoln bunks next to Jem. I bunk next to you. I can  _ hear  _ you two. No matter  _ what _ day it is.”

“...point made,” Bobbi mutters, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. (She can’t even look at Skye. Skye finds this hilarious, if not a tiny bit endearing.) “I suppose it’s been a long time coming.”

“Damn right it’s been.” Skye declares, settling her hands on her hips. “So you just tell me what you need to get done for the wedding, Bobbi Morse, and I promise I’ll get it done in half the time and for half the price.” She looks proud of having made up the slogan on the spot, and Bobbi can’t help but chuckle. 

“No weddings just yet, Johnson. Just asking for a blessing.” Skye’s face falls. “You’re a sister to her. I’ve already asked Fitz, and...I was hoping you’d agree.” 

“Yes, yes, and more yes,” Skye rambles off quickly. “ _ Please  _ marry Jem. She needs it. You need it. Hell,” she sighs, “we all need it. God knows we could all use some happiness in our lives these days."

“Thanks, Skye. Really.” 

“Oh, and before I forget,” Bobbi’s almost on her way down the hallway when Skye’s call stops her. She turns back into the room, her stance questioning. “You hurt her, you’re answering to  _ me _ , сестра _. _ Да?”

Bobbi smiles. Skye’s Russian really is improving. “Да.”

* * *

 

Bobbi Morse may  _ be  _ the Mockingbird, May muses, but today she seems to be nothing more than a wounded hippo.

May’s managed to catch Bobbi with her eyes out-of-focus three times before flipping her to the floor, and every time she gets up, she’s easily taken down again within a matter of seconds. (This happens five times. She counts.)

At the end of the fifth one, where Bobbi can barely stand without wincing, she calls for a stop. “Morse, that was terrible,” she scolds, tossing the younger agent a towel. “What’s gotten into you?” When Bobbi hesitates, she resists the urge to storm through the base, guns blazing, until she finds out who’s responsible. “What’s bothering you, and how do we resolve it as soon as possible?”

“Wow, May,” Bobbi hisses in pain as she moves a fraction of an inch towards the door. “Not one to mince words, are you?”

“You knew that already, Morse; don’t evade the subject.” May’s voice is sharp. “What’s going on?” Bobbi sighs, tensing as she prepares to reach for the chain around her neck. May watches closely as a glimpse of silver flashes through the air, the result of Bobbi letting the ring attached to the chain fall. 

She frowns. “You divorced with Hunter for a reason.”

Bobbi shakes her head, and she looks up at the older agent, her blue eyes determined. “It isn’t that,” she begins, willing her voice not to quaver. When May raises an eyebrow, her chin lifts defiantly. “I want to marry Jemma, May. I’m asking for your blessing.” 

She sincerely hopes there’s footage somewhere of May’s reaction, because the look on her face is one for the ages. “You want to marry Simmons.”

“More than I've wanted anything in my entire life,” Standing in front of May is a little like facing judgement day, Bobbi muses, and she suddenly feels the need to explain. “Death doesn't discriminate between sinners and saints, May. Neither does love. You know just as well as I do that every day has its new risks. I don't want to go out without her knowing.”

May looks weary. “You realize what marriage entails, Morse. It didn't turn out so well last time.”

Bobbi's jaw is set. “Hunter and I jumped into it,” she says stiffly. “We weren't honest with each other about my secrets. This is different.” May's raised eyebrow dares her to continue. “Sure, I started with getting Jemma out of HYDRA, but I  _ know  _ her. She knows me. There aren't any secrets between us. Well,” she amends, wincing a bit, “except for this. And I  _ love  _ her, May. She makes me a better person. For the first time, she comes before anything else. If I'm going out, I'm going out in her name or I'm coming home to her.”

May's stern expression falters at Bobbi's intensity. “You used to be married to the job,” she protests softly. “You're saying Simmons changed that.”

“I'm saying that Jemma changed  _ everything, _ ” Bobbi answers, her fervor unwavering. “And I want to tell her while I can. These days are unpredictable. The last time I put something like this off, she got sucked into an alien rock. So, again.” She looks up. “I'm asking for your blessing, May.”

She regards the tall blonde standing before her, an exhausted but powerful aura in her stance. She'd come far, May remarks silently. A long way from the peppy, inexperienced cadet fresh out of the Academy. She'd been through hell and back, seen much more than anyone deserved to see in their lifetime. Perhaps only second to May herself. 

“Marry her, Morse,” she says quietly, and Bobbi's head snaps up in shock. “Marry her. You make her happy. I can tell. You're not as impulsive as you used to be. I think you'll do the right thing.”

“Oh,” Bobbi says, touched by the assurances. “Thanks, May.”

“If anyone  _ ever  _ hears of this conversation, I know where you are. Remember that.” May tosses Bobbi a towel and ice pack. “I assume you wouldn't dare of hurting her. You know what happens if you do.” On that note, she turns and heads for the showers, leaving Bobbi rooted in relief and slight fear. 

Somehow, May's nearly nonexistent threats are the most serious things she's gotten all day.

* * *

 

Hunter and Mack side-eye her in unison when she walks into the lounge, and Bobbi’s slightly thankful she gets to tell both of them at the same time. Somehow, she thinks Hunter’s reaction will be more mature when Mack’s in the room. 

It’s not. 

“So the Brits are finally takin’ the ‘mericans back under their wing,” he snorts, and it’s obvious he’s got a couple of beers in his system. Mack shoots her an apologetic look, and it’s all Bobbi’s got not to stride over and smack him until he’s sober. 

“No point in asking  _ you,  _ then,” she mutters, before turning to the taller man: He’s pensive, the neck of a beer bottle swinging between his long fingers. “Mack? You haven’t said anything yet.”

“I’m concerned for you,” he says finally, and Bobbi quiets at the brevity in his voice. “You were sure of this the last time you got married, Barbara, and look how well that turned out.”

“Hey, in my defense, I married him,” Bobbi points out, nodding at Hunter. The man in question is now engrossed in a soccer game on the TV, occasionally leaning forwards on the couch to shout voraciously at the referee. They both turn to look at him when a particularly nasty call goes out, their judgements turning to exasperation when he starts shaking his beer at the screen. 

The side of Mack’s mouth curls into a grin. “I see what you mean.”

“Jemma’s not  _ like  _ that,” Bobbi begins to explain, already annoyed with the fact that Mack would even  _ think  _ Simmons was  _ anything  _ like Hunter. “She inhales tea like the rest of us need to breathe. She shouts out scientific inaccuracies at  _ Scooby Doo _ . She makes little squeaking noises when she’s surprised...” A besotted expression crosses her face, causing Mack to snort. “She’s my tiny duck.”

Mack’s just amused. “And what was he?” 

They watch as Hunter lets out a loud cry that screams of injustice. “Foul!” he screams, leaping off of the couch. “What the hell are you  _ doing _ , you wanker? It was clearly a bloody foul!” Bobbi turns back to Mack, her nose wrinkling. 

“Obviously, a longshoresman.” 

“You’re serious about her?” The question throws Bobbi for a loop - not that she  _ isn’t  _ serious about  Simmons, like hell she isn’t - but it’s the fact that, even after all this time, it still needs to be answered. When she doesn’t reply immediately, Mack presses on. “I mean it, Bobbi. That girl’s been through hell and back. She doesn’t need anything else getting her hopes up and breaking them again.”

“That’s  _ why  _ I’m serious about her,” Bobbi fires back, emotion beginning to clutter her voice. She lets it just this once. “Jemma deserves happiness in her life - hell, she deserves  _ everything  _ she wants in life. For the entirety of it, she’s given her all, and what does she get in return? Nothing,” She sighs. “I want her to be happy, Mack. I don't want to see her cry anymore, I want to see her  _ smile  _ and  _ laugh  _ and be  _ loved _ . And I want to be the person that does that,” Under Mack's stern gaze, Bobbi suddenly feels small, like he's Simmons’ father instead of Coulson. Rationally, she knows that convincing him will be infinitely harder, but Mack's proving just as formidable a goal. 

“You  _ are  _ serious about her.” 

Intense pride sticks in Bobbi's throat; the pride of calling Jemma  _ hers  _ threatening to bubble out. “Yeah,” she answers in a raw voice. “I sure as hell am. And even if you say no, Alphonso, I'm  _ still  _ marrying her.” She's entirely serious about that. In the grand scheme of things, it isn't his opinion that matters - it's Coulson that has the firepower to bring her down should she go against him. 

“No need to bring out the big guns, Barbara,” Mack’s easy smile is back, and Bobbi exhales; she’s passed the big brother test. “Save those for when you have to take on Coulson.” And just like that, her fear is back. Mack catches that and claps Bobbi on the shoulder encouragingly. “Come on. You just took me on without blinking. How hard can the Director be?”

* * *

 

“No.” 

After all of the long-winded explanations (and swearing tangents) that Bobbi’s heard today, Coulson’s abrupt refusal throws her for a loop. It’s surprising, to say the least, but she’s ready to get to root of it and persevere on. She’ll leave SHIELD or whatever it is she’ll need to do. None of that matters now, it’s Jemma she does everything for. 

“What?” she asks quietly, unsure if she’s misheard Coulson or if this could be the start of a very long, bitter inter-team war. “I’m sorry, sir...did you just say no?” 

“I did.” Coulson’s looking surprisingly serene about his decision, like it hasn’t just stabbed Bobbi in the heart and left her to die bleeding on the floor. “You’re not marrying her, Agent Morse, and that’s final.” 

“But sir,” This is it. Bobbi’s saved up all of her arguments in case of an opposition like this (which, face it, was bound to happen some time), but when it comes down to it, she can’t make the words come out of her mouth. “Sir, I don’t think you understand -”

“I understand perfectly.” How does that man manage to convey so much disapproval without twitching a facial muscle? It’s gotta be Botox. Bobbi’s one hundred percent sure Jemma’s done some injections in her day. “You want to marry Agent Simmons. I’m saying no. Are we clear?”

There’s nothing left in the bewilderment to form any sort of rational thought, and Bobbi’s left with the disbelieving gasps and stuttered questions of “ _ Why _ , Coulson?  _ Why _ ?” The rest of her rationale’s dedicated to not breaking her heart - Bobbi would’ve been ready to disobey orders, had it been May, Mack, hell, even Hunter - but when it came to Coulson, his word was law. 

Fuck it. Jemma was more important than any law. Even Coulson’s. He’d forgive her at some point. 

“You look like you have something to say, Agent Morse.” He was grinning like he’d won this round, Bobbi scowls. He hadn’t won it just quite yet.

“Damn right, I do,” The profanities slip out before she can even notice it, but she’s already too far down the road to take them back. She’d do damage control later. If she was lucky, Coulson wouldn’t have her thrown 35,000 feet from the plane. “You’re not going to stop me from marrying Jem,” she hisses, bringing her face to his. “I love her more than anything I’ve ever loved, and I’m not going to let the orders of some stupid commander stop me.” With that, she stomps from the room. 

Coulson waits until she’s gone from the room before dropping his eyes and smiling. Good. So Bobbi  _ had  _ had it in her to disobey him. He’d been worried for a second she’d back down. He picks up his phone, dialing May. He’s got a bet to cash in on. 

“May? She told me to basically screw off.”

* * *

 

“Guess whoooo?” A pair of hands covers her eyes, and it takes everything Simmons has not to squeal with delight. No use in scaring Fitz over what’s clearly a harmless prank. 

“Hmm...” She makes an about face, pretending to think out loud. “Fitz, are you trying to get me back for that toad I dissected last week?”

“No, silly,” the voice chirps, while Fitz exclaims loudly about not having gotten her back for it yet. “Guess again!”

“Skye,” Simmons puts on her most disapproving voice. “What if I’d been working on some important experiment? You can’t have anything blowing up again!”

“C’mon, Jem! You should know better!” the voice exclaims, while Skye wanders into the room. 

“You call my name?”

“Oh, I know who it is, now!” A slight pause. “It’s May!” That just makes the person covering her eyes burst into raucous laughter, Fitz joining in. “What?” she cries. “It’s not May?” 

“No, Jem. It’s not May - although that would be hilarious if it was, let’s be real...” The person in question uncovers her eyes, giving her a quick peck on the lips. “It’s me!”

“Oh,  _ Bobbi _ !” Simmons exclaims laughingly, turning around to face her. “I knew it was you!” She drinks in the sight of her girlfriend, starved after not having seen her all day. Bobbi had claimed she’d had some errands to run; and Simmons had let her go without protest. But she’d missed Bobbi, she really had. 

“Hi,” Bobbi whispers, touching their noses. “I missed you. Wanna go out tonight?”

Simmons looks between Bobbi and the samples. They can surely wait a night...a night out with Bobbi was in itself overdue. “I missed you too,” she answers, smiling secretively. “I would love to. Now?”

“I’ll meet you at the Quinjet in five.”

“Wha-” Before Simmons can protest further, Bobbi's already darting out of the room, a trail of laughter following her fading voice. She's got no choice but to sigh, picking up her materials and beginning to put them away for the day. She wasn't surprised Bobbi was nearly loopy after having gone the entire day running around the base. But she still loved her, high energy states and all. 

Simmons nearly skips down the hallway to her bunk, absolutely giddy at the prospect of spending time with her favorite person in the world. She stops in her bunk to grab a light sweater - nights can get unnecessarily cold - and touches up her makeup before darting out of the room. 

She greets Bobbi at the QuinJet by jumping on her back unawares, causing the other woman to to jump and whirl around in surprise before sighing in relief. “Jesus, Jem. You scared the hell out of me.”

Simmons giggles and climbs down, giving Bobbi an apology kiss. “I'm sorry, love. But it was too much to resist.” Bobbi rolls her eyes good-naturedly and leans in for another kiss. 

She's two inches away before she lets out a triumphant shout and quickly wraps a blindfold around Simmons’ eyes, laughing when her girlfriend lets out a shout of outrage.

“Trust me, Jem.” She can't spoil the surprise before they get there. 

As she carries Simmons into the plane, the chain burns around her neck, weighing her down.  _ Am I making the right decision?  _ It nearly makes her stop.  _ Maybe Coulson was right. Maybe I'm not right to marry her yet. Maybe she's not ready. Maybe she doesn't even want me.  _

“Bobbi?” 

The English lilt makes her smile, and her resolve strengthens, causing her to plop Simmons into the copilot seat before starting preflight checks. “Where are we going?”

Bobbi only grins as she starts the Quinjet. “You'll see, hon.”

* * *

 

“Take three steps.” They were only in the air for thirty minutes, Simmons reasons, but they've already reached an area of complete silence, if the crickets chirping are anything to go by. She still can't see anything, though, and has to rely on Bobbi to take the right amount of steps forward. “Two to the left.” 

“Are we there yet?” Bobbi laughs, her only answer to the twentieth time she’s asked. “Can’t blame a girl for asking.” 

“Five more steps” is all she says before she pulls Simmons to a stop, bending down to wrap her arms around the smaller woman’s waist. “Ready?” 

“Really?” Simmons says archly, prompting a laugh from Bobbi. “You’re really asking me that, love?” The blindfold is slowly slid from her eyes, and a gasp involuntarily escapes her as her vision is filled with stars, sparkling in every variation possible. A brilliant half-moon is reflected on the water below her, emphasizing the ripples on the surface. Gently, a wind stirs the tendrils of her hair, the most errant ones immediately scooped up by Bobbi’s gentle touch and tucked behind her ears. It’s a beautiful setting, but that’s not what’s got her in such awe. While it may be gorgeous, it’s also very, very familiar. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” She jumps - no way she heard her girlfriend sneaking up on her - and sees Bobbi standing behind her, a hand on the small of her back. “The first time we were here, you stumbled over every other word and managed to spill the wine into the ocean.” 

“Leave it to you to remember the most humiliating parts.” 

“I wouldn’t be your girlfriend if I didn’t, would I?” Bobbi tugs on Simmons’ hand so that they’re both sprawled out on the blanket that she’d brought, arms and legs overlapping. “I thought it would be a nice surprise.” The moment draws ever-closer, and the ring announces its presence regularly by acting as a weight to the ground. 

“Surprise?” Simmons echoes, searching Bobbi’s blue eyes for some sort of explanation. The older spy doesn’t give any, save for a quick dart towards Simmons’ hands. What was going on? “What could you bring me out here for a surprise for?” 

“Three years ago, I was head of security at HYDRA. You were a small mole planted by Coulson, eager to prove your loyalties to science.” Bobbi grows quiet at the small trip down memory lane, the scar on her chest throbbing a little in response to the organization. “Raina outed you to the entire staff, and I was told to take you out.” 

Simmons smiles wryly. “You came in there and took them out. I was nearly about to faint when you bashed his head through the window.” 

Bobbi chuckles. “I had to. I got you on that QuinJet, though, didn’t I? I also remember a certain someone saying three words that would change my life.” 

Another smile, this time reaching Simmons’ eyes, making them twinkle like the multitudes of stars in the sky. “‘I like you’.” The words are whispered, nearly silent, matching the crashing of the distant waves against the shore below them. “I still do, you know. More than that, I should hope.”

“I love you, Jem.” A small kiss on the lips, a smile just barely made out in the moonlight. “I’ve loved you ever since I set eyes on you for the first time after HYDRA, and I could love you for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Bobbi, you had to hate me when we first met -” 

“I used to be married to the job before I met you,” Bobbi blurts out, her words beginning to tumble one on top of the other to make it out in time. “I didn’t have friends, much less hold a decent relationship. Hunter’ll tell you that one.” A grin. “You changed so much of that for me. I divorced the job, learned to have emotions. Learned to love. And I learned that I love when I see you. I do all of that cheesy shit - my heart skips a beat, I get butterflies, my pupils dilate - and it’s only when it’s related to you, Jem.” Bobbi grips the chain. _This is happening,_ _it’s really happening._ There’s no turning back. 

“I love those things. I want to feel them for the rest of my life. I want to see you every morning puffy-eyed and straggling for tea in the kitchen. I want to see you get excited over samples and be able to talk to a solution with you. I want to get through all of the everyday squabbles in life like who makes better tea or who has to do the laundry this week.  _ I want it all _ .” Deep breath, she reminds herself as she fumbles the chain on her neck, unclasping it and letting it snake into one open fist. There’s no turning back. She holds her hand out to Simmons, fingers closing over the object inside.

The scientist regards the closed fist with curiosity. Slowly, finger by finger, she opens Bobbi’s hand, pressing her lips together in a surge of emotion when the sees the silver chin pooled around the ring. “Is this a proposal?” 

Panic surges through Bobbi at the question, and it takes all she has not to snatch her hand back in panic, terrified she’s done something wrong. “It can be?” she asks nervously, unsure of what’s running through Simmons’ head at the moment. 

There’s a seemingly long second of silence before the emotion finally breaks through Simmons’ facade, grasping Bobbi’s hand as if it’s an anchor. “Yes, yes, and a million times yes,” she exclaims tearfully, diving into her arms. “Bloody hell,  _ yes  _ to everything and more. Yes, yes, and yes!”

A shocked laugh escapes Bobbi, and for a moment, she just lies there, trying to absorb the shock that she’s just asked  _ Jemma Simmons  _ to  _ marry her  _ and she’s said  _ yes  _ and holy  _ hell  _ she said  _ yes _ \-  _ yes _ . 

“Bobbi?”

“I,” Bobbi scrubs her hands over her face in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.” She kisses Simmons then, still trying to make sense of the fact that this is the woman she has the privilege to spend the rest of her life with, that this isn’t a fluke and Skye isn’t going to jump out from somewhere with a video camera. 

“I think you should,” Simmons whispers when they pull apart, breathing heavily but still with a dopey smile on her face. “After all, there’s the rest of our lives to contend with.”


End file.
